


Can't I Just Pretend? (Soulmates Part 6)

by IarnaStrom



Series: Soulmates [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:05:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IarnaStrom/pseuds/IarnaStrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picking up just after Part 5, Emily finds herself ensnared by Crowley's net and must escape.  After confronting Castiel in the process, Emily realizes what she must do.  She just needs to see Sam one last time before she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't I Just Pretend? (Soulmates Part 6)

Emily glared at Crowley though the links of the net holding her down against the sliding platform he’d pushed into the wall.  With a smirk, the King of Hell pulled a lever to the side of the opening, lowering a grate that shut her in like a dog in a kennel.  When she got out, she was going to rip him apart, piece by bloody piece.  And she would get out.  No matter how smug the bastard was as he crouched down to get eye-level with her, she knew something that made her smile wider than he did.

“You seem quite at home in my kennel, Lassie,” he said, gripping the grate to keep his balance as he taunted her.  “Are you sure won’t reconsider my offer?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Emily said sweetly, flipping him the bird as she batted her eyelashes innocently.

“Shame,” he said with a shrug.  “Dogs are so much more pleasant when they are obedience to their Masters.”

“Thank the gods you’re not my Master, then,” she said.

“True,” he said, chewing the corner of his lip as he looked away from her briefly.  “But I could be.”

“Phúlax don’t work like that,” she said.  “One soul to protect, one Master to serve.  Betraying my role in the Fates’ plan is a death sentence and you know it.”

“Yes, but where is the soul you are meant to protect?” he asked facetiously.

Emily ground her teeth together as she struggled against the net in an effort get at the bastard.  He wasn’t stupid.  She knew he’d figured out who her charge was by the way she’d threatened him when he’d refused to help her get Sam’s soul out of Lucifer’s cage.  It was only a matter of time before he tried to use that knowledge as a bargaining chip to make her submit to him.  Had it been any other soul at risk, she could have just shrugged her shoulders and let him stew in his own juices.  But, if it was a choice between her soul and Sam’s, she would have no choice but to give in.  All Crowley had to do was open the cage long enough for Sam’s soul to escape back to his vessel and she’d sign over her eternal freedom to the King of Hell.  The shit-eating grin on Crowley’s face as she fell silent told her he knew it, too, but he wasn’t ready to play that card yet.

With a chuckle, he patted the grate locking her in and stood to face the angel in the trench coat that had helped Crowley capture her.  His blue eyes regarded her closely though his expression remained stoic.  Something resonated inside him that held her attention as she stared back.  More than his grace or divinity, she recognized a purpose in him akin to her own.  He was a Guardian like her though they were from different sides of the drachma.

“What is the purpose of keeping her?” the angel asked Crowley as he returned to the throne-like chair he’d placed towards the back of the room.

“You saw the power she uses,” Crowley said plainly.  “Having an attack dog capable of higher reasoning in the heat of battle could come in handy.  For both of us.  You are the one fighting a war in Heaven, are you not?”

“The war in Heaven does not concern the Greek Pantheon,” the angel said plainly.  “They are lesser gods than my father.”

Emily growled low in her throat at the open insult to the gods that birthed her race.  She may not have practiced the rituals or observed the traditions the way they did in ancient times, but they were still her mother’s gods damn it.  The angel turned to her in question, tilting his head to the side as he looked at her.

“I wouldn’t insult the Greek gods in front of her if I were you,” Crowley said with a chuckle.  “She’s a child of Cerberus, which makes her the part human cousin to my Hellhounds.  It also makes her particularly nasty when she’s pissed off.”

“Duly noted,” the angel said, still watching her closely.  “Though I’m not sure where I insulted her pantheon.  I was simply stating a fact.”

Emily lunged against the grate and the net, trying to break free of the steel of Hephaestus though she knew it couldn’t be done.  The blacksmith to the gods had fashioned a similar net to trap Aphrodite and Ares while they laid together in a lovers’ embrace in order to drag them before the Zeus to atone for their shameless affair.  If two, full-blooded gods couldn’t break free of the net, Emily had no chance in Tartarus on her own.  The angel’s eyes narrowed at her again and she felt a brush of his power against hers from across the room.  Lifting her head slightly, she inhaled through her nose, scenting the air around her to find the smell of Frankincense where his power touched, mingling with a scent she couldn’t name.  She did, however, recognize it.  She’d smelled it the day she’d gone to see Dean when she came close enough to kiss his forehead.

She hadn’t registered it at the time, assuming he’d gotten a new aftershave or soap than he normally used.  But in the presence of the angel’s power, she knew the truth.  The so-called Angel of the Lord was Dean’s Guardian.  He had to be the famed Castiel.  Then why was he working with Crowley?  Sure, Dean had abandoned the field for a normal life, but Guardians were bound by a sacred covenant to remain close to their charges until such a time that their golden threads are cut and the afterlife claims them.  Unless he didn’t understand his place in the Fates’ tapestry.  She wasn’t familiar with how angels handled their bond to their charges or if they were bred to be submissive to their Masters the way the Phúlax were.  But one thing was clear.  He should never have left Dean’s side for more than a minute unless it was to ensure Dean’s safety and health.

“Betrayer,” she hissed in the language of the gods, making the angel’s eyes widen as Crowley leaned forward on his throne to see her better.  “Traitor,” she spat.  “You call yourself an angel.  You claim righteousness and divinity yet you stand in the presence of an abomination as an ally instead of at your charge’s side.  No wonder your God abandoned you.”

“What is she saying?” Crowley asked, but Castiel ignored him, coming closer to the grate with anger snapping in his eyes.

“You know nothing of my father,” he answered her in the same language.

“I know he left you,” she said.  “I know he turned his back on all of creation and left it to rot.  My gods still walk among us.  They still participate in the movement of life.  Where is your beloved father?  Where was he when Lucifer walked the Earth unchecked?  Where was he when his chosen sons threatened to destroy his precious human race in their blood feud?  Angels are nothing more than lost, squabbling children throwing tantrums and calling it divine province.  What use do you have without his Word?  What plan do you have to do what you were created to do?”

“And what do you believe I was created to do?” he asked in English as he stopped in front of the kennel and looked down through the grate at her.

“Protect,” she growled, switching back to English as well.  “You abandoned him,” she said in a low tone.  “He was destroyed, struggling to breathe with nothing of his world left to show but his grief and you ignored him.  He called to you.  He needed you.  But you turned your back on your charge.  And for what?  What could possibly be more important than him?”

“I wouldn’t expect a lesser being to understand why I must fight my war,” he said through his teeth.

“Your war,” she pointed out.  “Not his.  Not your father’s.  Yours.  You would be my brother in our mission to keep them safe had you not been so selfish as to pursue your own power.”

Castiel winced like he’d been slapped and turned away from her, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he worked his teeth together in thought.

“You are not an angel of the Lord,” he said after a long pause.

“I am a war dog of the Underworld,” she said.  “By the will of the Gods on Olympus, I am the shadows to your light, brother.  Like those we are bound to, you and I are two sides to the same coin, both created by the will of a god.  Both warriors with the sole purpose of protecting the souls we are bound to.  I may not be an angel of the Lord, but I am no stranger to the cause.”

Castiel stared at her in silence and she could see him digesting her words rapidly.  Behind him, Crowley stepped down from his throne and looked between them.  Apprehension grew in his eyes as the angel’s silence dragged on.

“Remember our deal, Castiel,” Crowley said quietly, trying to pull the angel out of his thoughts.

“An angel doing deals with a devil,” she said in disgust.  “How the mighty do fall.”

Castiel opened his mouth, presumably to defend his poor choices, but he was cut off by the sudden cacophony of noise in the palace.  Hellhounds of every age were going ape-shit, snarling, snapping, and howling as the stormed the halls.  Emily could hear the screams of agony as they turned on the demons that roamed the property and she grinned from ear to ear.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley breathed an instant before he vanished.

“Coward,” Emily bellowed though she was sure he couldn’t hear her.  In front of her, Castiel moved quickly, drawing his silver blade to defend himself as the Hellhounds started beating against the doors to the throne room.  “That little pig-sticker won’t help with what’s coming for you,” she taunted him.  “Your only hope for survival at this point is to let me out of this kennel before those doors come down.”

He threw her an apprehensive look before he moved to lever that lifted the grate.  Once it was clear, he wrapped his hand around the rolling platform and yanked it out before freeing her from the net.  She stood from the platform, gathering the net off of her body as the door crashed off their hinges and the room filled with Hellhounds to surround them.  They stalked towards the two of them with their teeth bared menacingly, snarling low in their throats.  The angel held his blade tight, spinning to assess where the biggest threat was in the room as Emily walked towards the largest of the Hellhounds.

“Cousin,” she said, reaching out her hand for the Hellhound’s mouth.  It sniffed her carefully before opening its jaws wide enough for her to put her fingers between its teeth in a sign of trust.  After a tense heartbeat, the Hellhound released her hand and bellowed at the others in a short burst of a howl.  “Tell grandfather that I’m safe,” she said to the largest Hellhound and received a head bod in return before it followed the others calmly out of the room.

“You command Hellhounds,” the angel said bringing her attention back to him.

“No,” she said.  “I merely showed them that I was one of them.  Crowley wasn’t lying when he said I was a child of Cerberus.  When Artemis created my race to play Guardian to her Hunters, she bargained with Hades for the use of Cerberus’s blood.  Each House was granted six children, three males and three females, born to the coupling of a chosen priest or priestess with a god and each child was formed with the blood of Cerberus to ensure our undying, unyielding loyalty to our Hunters as well as our animal instincts in battle.  My kind is submissive to our Masters as dogs are to their owners and serve them without hesitation in whatever role they choose for us.”

“And who is your Master?” Castiel asked, frowning at her in concentration.

“Sam Winchester,” she said without hesitation, making his eyes flare briefly.  “You didn’t think Dean was the only one with a Guardian, did you?”

“But why a Phúlax?” he asked.  “Why not assign him an angel?”

“Come on, feather-brain,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Like a cloud jockey like you would willingly submit to a soul stained from infancy with demon blood.  Sam was conditioned to be Lucifer’s perfect vessel, right?  Which of your brothers and sisters would lay down their life to protect that?”

Castiel looked away from her again, but not before she saw the flash of shame in his eyes.  He knew the selfishness of the angels wouldn’t allow them to favor the tainted son of John Winchester.  If he’d been given an angel to watch over him, they would have likely killed him in his crib and called it God’s will.  No, Sam had been given a Phúlax because they were akin to the demons that had tormented his entire life without the evil, backstabbing aftertaste.  Her kind could see past the damage the demons had done to the pureness of his soul and walk at his side without judgment or fear.  She may have made a few mistakes in trying to care for him, but that was one thing she could be proud of.  No matter what happened, as long as the end result was that Sam was safe and whole, she was not afraid of danger.  Her only fear was letting him down again.

Taking a deep breath, she realized she wasn’t being entirely truthful with herself.  She was afraid of something.  Or someone.  And they were likely her best bet to finding Sam’s soul in an effort to put her broken love back together again.  She’d hoped to gain the aid of the angel that had pulled Dean from the Pit, but the lost look in Castiel’s eyes told her that he would be of no use to her.  He was too deep in whatever shit-storm he’d created for himself.  Asking him to help her was more likely to get them both killed than it was to get Sam’s soul out of Lucifer’s cage.

“I always thought Phúlax were demons,” Castiel said quietly.

“And I always thought angels were pansies,” she said, perking an eyebrow at him as he looked at her in confusion.  “Look, Feathers, even demons of the Judeo-Christian persuasion come in varying degrees of evil.  Not all Phúlax are as wholesome and sweet as I am either,” she said sarcastically.

“You are neither wholesome nor sweet,” he said bluntly.

“Bite me,” she said and swatted his arm.

“Why would I bite you?” he asked and she rolled her eyes.

“Are you really that naïve or are you just stupid?” she asked, shaking her head.

“I’m not stupid,” he said quickly.

“Yeah, OK,” she said, shaking her head as she started for the door.  “Look, I’ve got a boat to catch and a rabid, three-headed grandfather to calm down.  I’ll catch you, later, Castiel.”

“Wait,” he said, jogging to catch up to her.  “Why were you down her talking to Crowley in the first place?”

“I need to get into Lucifer’s Cage,” she said.  “I thought I could convince him to open the door long enough for me to get in, but he refused.”

“He doesn’t have the power to get into the cage,” Castiel said, falling into step with her.

“Then who does?” she asked, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye.

His jaw muscle worked again for a moment before he answered her tightly.

“I don’t know,” he said.  He was lying.  If she hadn’t already written him off as being of no use to her, she might have been offended.

“I’ll figure it out on my own, then,” she said with a shrug.

“Why do you need to get into the cage?” he asked.

“Because I think Sam’s soul is still in there,” she said and he stopped walking.

“That’s impossible,” he said, frowning at her.  “Sam is on Earth and fully functional.”

“I know that, bird-brain,” she said, turning to look at him as she reached the door.  “But he’s not whole.  I can feel the emptiness inside him when I’m close to him.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head.  “You’re wrong.”

“You know, I really fucking hope so,” she said with a sigh.  “Otherwise, dealing with a cowardice angel who abandoned his post is going to be the least of my problems.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’m Phúlaxian,” she said simply.  “Where my Master’s soul goes, I go.  Why do you think we have the choice of being held by the confines of the Judeo-Christian Heaven and Hell?”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“The Phúlax are faithful to our charges,” she said seriously.  “Even in death.”

Emily left him standing in the foyer of the King’s palace as she jogged back through the rocky terrain to meet up with the ferryman at the border.  When she reached the shore on the other side of the river, Cerberus was waiting for her.

“What took you so long?” her grandfather growled as she came closer to him.

“I got a bit caught up,” she said, skirting the truth in an effort to keep him calm.  “Thanks for stirring up the Hellhounds, though.  You helped me prove a point.”

“Did you find a way to get into Lucifer’s Cage?” he asked, sitting down on the ground with a heavy whump.

“Not through Crowley,” she said shaking her head.  “But I think I know what I need to do.”

When she told Cerberus her plan, he whined low in his throats.  He knew what it meant if she followed through with it.  Because she’d been operating within her role with going through her Rite of Passage, she was essentially labeled as a rogue in their world.  Artemis didn’t tolerate rouges within her Guardian Ranks, no matter how noble their intentions.  Her past mistakes didn’t increase her chances of surviving unpunished either.  She’d called Castiel betrayer and traitor for leaving Dean’s side, but she too was guilty of leaving Sam.  Even if she’d done it to retrieve Dean’s soul from Hell, she should never have left him.  Her mistake had led her Master to unleash the Apocalypse and landed him in the cage in the first place.  Cerberus had been right when he said that her House was not a house of lovers.  She was bred to be a cold, heartless warrior to protect a sacred soul.  Not some love-sick puppy that chased its tail trying to make sure her Master was smiling and happy all the time.

He would have healed eventually if she’d been there to keep him safe.  She could have made sure that his chosen bedmates had pure intentions instead of leaving him at the mercy of a manipulative demon.  She could have stayed by his side and provided the council he’d needed to work through his grief with time.  Instead, she’d wanted to fix his pain instantly.  She’d paid dearly for her mistake in the tortured she’d experience at Dean’s hand, but that didn’t mean she’d atoned for it completely.

With a heavy sigh, Emily hugged Cerberus around his furry leg, taking comfort in his three heads nuzzling her back as she bid him farewell.  She would miss her grandfather dearly, but she knew what she had to do.  There was just one last thing she wanted to experience first before she did.

Once back on the surface in the latest motel room she’d checked into before traveling down to the Underworld, Emily sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out her cell phone.  She knew he was just an empty vessel, but when he was with her, she could pretend that he was whole and that he loved her.  And she wanted one last good memory to take with her.  Sam answered on the third ring with a seductive, “little one.”

“Hey, Sam,” she said.

“I was wondering when you were going to do as you were told,” he said.

“Sorry, Master,” she said flatly.

“It’s alright,” he said and she could hear his smirk.  “You can make it up to me later.”

“How about now?” she asked.  “I’m in Philadelphia.”

“I’ll be there in two hours,” he said and hung up the phone.

She texted him the name of the motel and her room number before jumping in the shower to clean off the stench of the Underworld before he arrived.  She stood under the blistering spray for over an hour, allowing her skin to turn lobster red and wrinkled before shutting off the water.  After drying off and braiding her hair, she packed her few meager belongings and took them down to her car.  She grabbed the title out of the glovebox and locked it up before stopping at the front counter on her way in.  She opened her wallet and paid in cash for three more nights in her room.  She wasn’t sure why Sam was so close, but she hoped he’d take advantage of his break away from his grandfather to think after she was gone.  After getting an envelope and a pad of paper from the desk attendant, she returned to her room and sat down at the small table near the bathroom to write her Master a letter explaining where she went and where her head was at.  She’d just sealed it up and written his name on the front when he knocked at the door.

He didn’t hesitate when she opened it, gather her up in his arms and claiming her lips hungrily.  For an instant, she wondered if he’d bedded another woman that day or if he was so aggressive because he’d gone unsatisfied.  But the thought scattered as he kicked the door closed and carried her to the bed.  She lost herself in the sensation of his touch as he kissed his way from her lips to her neck and nipped her shoulder through her shirt.

“I want to be inside you,” he growled in her ear as his hands found their way under her shirt to her breast, pawing them roughly.

She sat up compliantly, pulling her shirt off and tossing it over the edge of the bed as he worked on the fly of her jeans.  She hadn’t bothered with a bra or panties when she got dressed, and she’d taken her boots and socks off as soon as she’d returned from her car.  She’d known what he was coming to see her for and she’d wanted to experience it at least once before it was too late for her to have that simple pleasure.  He made a noise of appreciation in his throat when he saw her flesh bared beneath him and practically ripped his shirt off over his head.  She ran her nails down his chest with enough pressure to leave deep, red lines in his skin that made him growl.

He grabbed her wrists and pushed them up over her head as he blanketed her body with his, his jeans the only thing stopping him from entering her.  She tried to lean up enough to kiss him again, but he turned his head with a smirk before dipping his head to her neck to tease her.  She was already aching for his attention by then, sawing her thighs together under him to try and relieve the pressure building in her core.  With a throaty chuckle, Sam moved to claim her lips, shifting her wrists to grip them with one hand as the other moved down between them to touch her.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbled against her mouth before dipping a finger inside her.  He caught her gasp in his mouth as he snaked his tongue between her lips to dance with hers.  She moaned at the tasted and the feeling of him massaging her sweet spot deep inside, causing him to shutter.  “Fuck, little one,” he whispered. 

“Please, Master,” she whimpered as he kissed her neck again.  “I need you.”

That was enough for him.  Cool air rushed around her as he pushed up to his knees and shoved his jeans down his thighs with his boxers, setting his throbbing erection free.  He was back an instant later, using his knees to spread her legs wide for him as he kissed her deeply.  She reached down between their bodies and lined him up with her entrance as he started to push forward.  He was visibly restraining himself as he entered her, trying to go slowly as she cried out at the intrusion.  The one time they’d gotten anywhere near close to penetration, he’d barely touched her entrance, leaving her virginity intact.  There was nothing left of it then, though, and she felt the sharp pain of her maidenhead giving way to allow him entrance.  She shook from the sensation of him filling her to the hilt, pushing against her walls as she stretched to accommodate his size.

“Are you OK?” he asked in a whisper, watching her face closely as she nodded and bit her lip.  “Tell me if it’s too much,” he added and waited for her to nod again before he started to move.

Pleasure chased the pain away as she rocked her hips in time with his thrusts, but she forced herself to focus on the details, memorizing every sensation and scent.  She hadn’t realized a tear had escaped her eye until she felt Sam’s fingers brush it away as he stopped moving above her.

“What’s wrong, little one?” he asked.  “Am I hurting you?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head feebly.  “You feel perfect to me,” she breathed, afraid to speak any louder for the bittersweet pain swirling in her heart.  “I love you so much, Sam.  I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

“I love you, too, Emily,” he whispered and then kissed her fiercely.  “You won’t.  I’ll always need you.”

Her heart shattered in her chest at his words and she pulled him down to her lips to cover the tears escaping without her will.  She savored his declaration, replaying his voice over and over in her head as he continued his rhythm, driving her towards the brink with every stroke.  Stars exploded behind her eyes as her orgasm ambushed her out of nowhere, locking up her muscles around him and making her back arch up off the bed.  He chuckled in pride as he watched her, capturing the tip of her breast between his lips when it came into range of his mouth.  When she settled beneath him, he smirked down at her and kissed her lightly.

“Turn over,” he ordered and she blinked at him as he pulled out. 

Before she could get her aching body to comply, he gripped the underside of her waist and flipped her onto her stomach.  He kissed her back slowly, reaching beneath her to cup her breasts as he explored every inch of her before lifting her hips and reentering her from behind.  Her legs shook with every thrust and the pressure in her lower belly wound tightly again, warning her that the edge was close again, as his pace started to build.  The position allowed him deeper access, the blunt head of him pushing against her womb with every motion.  He let out a purely male groan as her second orgasm crashed over her and he joined her over the edge, filling her up with warmth until she felt it running down her thigh.  He collapsed over her, breathing heavily against her shoulder as they both shook from the power of their mutual release.

After a while, he withdrew from her and rolled onto his side.  At some point, she wasn’t sure when, he’d managed to strip off his jeans completely and was laying completely bare to her eyes.  She pushed herself up on shaky arms and knelt beside him as he closed his eyes, one hand stroking her hip and the other on his chest.  She could still feel the sensation of him inside her as she memorized every dip and curve of his body, trying to ignore the fact that, though he’d claimed her properly, she didn’t feel any different in terms of her power.  Knowing that she hadn’t ascended after making love to him told her what she already knew to be true.  Sam’s soul wasn’t within his vessel.  After a while of watching him, Sam opened his eyes to look at her in question.

“What’s the matter, little one?” he asked, reaching for her to lay down beside his with her head on his chest.

“Nothing, Master,” she lied.  They fell silent after that and she waited for his breathing to become deep and even.  He’d told her he felt normal when she was around.  Apparently, that meant he felt the need to sleep again, too.  She was grateful for it as she slipped from his arms to get dressed again.

With a heavy heart, she took the envelope from the table and set it down on the pillow beside his head.  He wasn’t likely to care when he woke to find it, but as she closed the door behind her, she chose to pretend that he would.

*****

Sam woke up alone in the motel room Emily had invited him to.  His legs, back, and stomach were sore from their lovemaking, but he smiled to himself when he realized he’d slept.  He could remember the last time he had since he’d returned from the cage and the idea that he was getting back to normal ease the knot of worry he only felt around his little one.  He rolled over to pull her close to him again, only to frown when he found an envelope with his name on it instead of her soft body beside him.  He sat up, looking around for Emily before getting out of bed to heck the bathroom.  Panic gripped him when he saw her car keys and cell phone sitting on the small table in the room.  Where the Hell was she?

Sitting down on the edge of the bed again, he grabbed the envelope and opened it.  Emily’s elegant scrawl filled the page and the ink was speckled with what assumed were tears, making his heart sink.

_My dearest Master and friend,_

_I’m sorry for my deception and secrecy, but I didn’t want you to try and stop me.  I know what is wrong with you now and I’m going to try and make it right the only way I know how.  I have gone to Olympus to speak with Artemis and beg for her help.  Unfortunately, it’s not likely that I will return to your side.  My sins are too great to be ignored by the mother of my race or go unpunished.  I have failed you too many times in the past and have been far too selfish to be worthy in my task of protecting your personally.  I know the Fates have more in store for you in this life, my love.  I just pray that the Phúlax that replaces me honors you the way I should have from the start and knows their place better than I ever could.  I love you, Sam, mind, body, heart, and soul.  Know that no matter where I am or what happens in your future without me, that will always be true.  I have always loved you, even before I knew you.  Be well, Sam.  Be safe.  For me._

_~Emily_

Sam’s breath shuttered out of him as he read the letter again before looking at the other page beneath it.  It was the title to her car.  And she’d signed it over to him.  Tears clouded his vision as he realized she wasn’t coming back.  She and Dean were the only people in the world he gave a damn about anymore, they were the only family he had left.  Even with Campbell, he knew there wasn’t any real connection.  Samuel encouraged him to act like a heartless machine, putting him to work instead of trying to figure out why he was going so numb he didn’t feel fatigue or hunger.  But he’d seen the worry in Dean’s eyes when he’d seen his brother again and Emily had been busting her Demi-god ass trying to figure out what was wrong with him.  He needed her.  He could feel again with her.  It was like a piece of his was missing when she was gone.  It always had been.  Even when he was running away from the life with Jessica, he’d always felt her absence like a physical ache.  He’d hated himself for leaving her behind the way he had when they were younger and blamed himself for Jessica’s death more because she would have never been in harm’s way if he’d gone back to Emily when he’d left his dad’s.

Without Emily there to sooth him, he could feel the creeping cold coming over him again as his emotions started to drain.  Soon he was frowning at his fingers, wondering why the hell he was crying like a pussy.  He read the letter from Emily again and shook his head.  Damned woman being overdramatic about talking to a god.  If she’d really fucked up that badly, she deserved to be punished. At least, he got a new car out of it.  He wadded up the letter she’d written and tossed it in the trash before getting dressed and going outside.  He transferred Emily’s few weapons and supplies to his own car and tossed her duffle bag in the garbage before calling his grandfather to meet him in the parking lot.  He was waiting by the Cougar when Samuel pulled up.

“What’s that?” his grandfather asked.

“My next paycheck,” Sam said with a smile.  “Follow me to the scrap yard.  This thing should be worth a could grand for steel.”

“Isn’t that your girlfriend’s car?” Campbell asked with a frown.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Sam said with a shrug as he opened the driver’s door.  “Stupid cow ran off to get herself killed and left it to me.  Thing’s ugly as fuck, but it’ll get me some walking around money.”  His grandfather frowned at him and shook his head as Sam slid into the seat and closed the door.  When he reached to adjust the mirror, his hand stopped.  Hanging from the rearview was a crystal flower with five petals dangling from a delicate silver chain.  It was the same kind of flower Emily had tattooed all over her body.  “Forget-me-nots,” Sam whispered as he carefully removed it from the mirror and held it in his palm.  A tear rolled down his cheek, making him frown at the moisture when his wiped it away from his skin.  He didn’t understand why the idea of throwing the charm away made his chest ache the way it did, but he slipped it into his pocket anyway before starting that car and driving to the nearest scrap yard.

 


End file.
